The Darkness Within
by theconsultingpenguin
Summary: Jo is John Watson's Lieutenant. This story was supposed to be something like Jim Moriarty trying to corrupt her or something. I don't know, I'm rubbish at writing summaries XD


There Jo stood in the darkened ally. A man that had been following her for the past fifteen minutes lay unconscious and bleeding at her feet. 'It was self defense. He tried to rape me' she thought as she slipped down the brick wall. Jo ached from the beating she had taken. Her jaw was likely cracked and a rib or two had been broken. Thinking quickly, Jo grabbed her mobile and phoned Lestrade. "Yes... It's Jo... I've... Been attacked. The alley that leads to my flat... Alright... Send a few ambulances, the sod's unconscious... " she gasped, clutching at her lower ribs. "Hurry" she choked as the mobile slipped from her fingers.

As Jo began to lose consciousness from the pain, an eerily familiar voice popped back into waking mind. "You know you miss this... The feeling of blood pooling underneath a freshly made corpses. Or the beautiful fleeting light that dims as life slips away like sand in your fingers" it said, making the blood in Jo's veins run cold. The sudden sensation of ice made Jo break out into a cold sweat. 'No... No! Stop it! Shut up!' she thought, whipping her head from left to right as if to shake the darkened thoughts that had seemingly taken roots into her psyche. "Oh pshhh... Remember sneaking up on the enemies sniper? How you cracked the neck without so much as a sound as his neck snapped beneath your fingers? Those delicate surgeons fingers? The very fingers that you fantasize wrapping around each and every one of those terrorist shits while you surgically remove their hearts form them to see? You thrive on it, Jo. Don't deny your true nature... Go on, give in. This prick doesn't deserve to live after what he tried to do. Do it. Kill the motherfucker." laughed the voice. Jo retched and managed to vomit to her right. The mere fact that she allowed herself t entertain such thoughts scared her. They scared her, because they were true. Oh god, how she wished it an outside influence. But after watching the light leave from John's eyes after a bullet tore through his shoulder, the darkness in the Pandora's box that was Jo's heart was unleashed, plunging Jo down the rabbit hole into blackness.

Tears began to form in Jo's eyes as the sirens began to sound. Jo rested her back against the slickened brick wall as the first o many raindrops began to fall. Lestrade himself came to her side. "Jo... What-... Remind me never to piss you off" he said in a forced lighthearted manner as he carried her to the ambulance. "I'm so... S-... Sorry" she gasped before the light in her eyes began to dim, engulfing her completely. Ah, sweet bliss at last.

The next thing she knew, Jo woke up in a sterile smelling room with white walls too bright for Jo's taste and fluorescent lights that buzzed far too loudly. Jo tried to speak, but her throat was much too dry, resulting in a coughing fit that alerted the nurses. "You're awake, Ms Cooper." said one of the nurses. She was blonde and young. No older than her early twenties. Jo offered a timid smile as pain shot through her jaw and trhough her body. The nurse held up a cup with ice water in it. Jo gulped it down with a burning thirst akin to a fledgling vampire. When the water was gone, Jo fell back against the pillows. The young nurse completed her check list and left. All Jo needed was the okay from the doctor and she could go home.

With the previous night's attack on her mind, Jo wanted nothing more than to go home and take a hot bath with a mug of Irish Bourbon and coffee. Nothing like the comforts of home to help distract herself from the memory of feeling the assailants blood running over her near flawless skin. The immediate warmth cooling down as it hit the frigid air. The way the air seeped from around the knife embedded in his ribs when he tried to breath. Jo couldn't wait to go home and forget about it. But a warm bath and Irish coffee would have to wait. Jo had yet to answer the DI's questions about what exactly happened. On the bright side, Jo only punctured her would-be rapist's lung. He'd live. But once the words of his survival left the DI's lips, Jo's inner voice couldn't help but pipe in with "You twat, you should have knifed the prick in the throat." Jo shuddered slightly at the thought. Her delicate features contorting with disgust, the DI quickly finished up and went to fetch the nurse. No sooner had he left did John come rushing in, fear and anger in his eyes as he kissed her cheek. Jo blushed and chatted briefly before the Doctor came back with the discharge papers. "Cracked ribs and a bruised jaw." he said. "You'll be fine" he said in a soft voice. Jo nodded and looked at John-who insisted on helping Jo back to her flat. But stubborn is as stubborn does, as Jo put her foot down at John staying over for a day or two. Knowing how stubborn Jo was, John relented and helped her gather her things so she could return home.

An hour later, Jo and John reached her flat. Like a mother hen, John fretted over his former lieutenant as she insisted upon climbing the stairs to her second story flat. Why? Because carrying her would cause too much pain. Once inside, John insisted upon making Jo her favorite meal and tea, as well as coming over during the day to help with the daily chores. If Jo weren't in such pain, she'd end up having a row with him. But Jo caved in and agreed to let the man help her. When Jo was settled in, John gave her a brief and gentle hug and left. Jo let out a sigh and put the plate of food in the fridge. She'd eat later. Right then, Joe wanted a bath and bourbon. Gulping a bit of the tea, Jo poured in the whiskey. She'd have preferred coffee, but she was content with tea. Slowly, jo made her way towards the bath and began to fill the tub.

When the warm water was near the edge, jo turned the faucet off. Gingerly, Jo shed her clothes and stepped in. Since Jo had been living on her own for about six weeks, she noticed she'd lost about four pounds. Oops. John would not be happy. Sighing, Jo sat back in the ceramic basin and sipped her Irish bourbon and tea 


End file.
